


Silk and Lace

by walkthegale



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Clothing, F/F, Femslash, First Kiss, Five Times, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkthegale/pseuds/walkthegale
Summary: Just for the briefest of moments, she wonders what she might find underneath that robe, were the two of them here, in Hecate’s bedroom, under much different circumstances.
Relationships: Ada Cackle/Hecate Hardbroom
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35
Collections: Hackle Remix Challenge 2020





	Silk and Lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BelladonnaInBloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaInBloom/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Can Face Another Day In Slipper Satin Lingerie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710485) by [BelladonnaInBloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaInBloom/pseuds/BelladonnaInBloom). 



> A remix of BelladonnaInBloom's fic, _I Can Face Another Day In Slipper Satin Lingerie_ , from Ada's point of view.

Day One

Ada is aware that it’s somewhat early in the day to call on Hecate, but she also knows that Hecate tends to be a morning witch, and is likely to have been awake for some time already. The day will run so much more smoothly if she can just catch her for a quick chat before the onslaught of breakfast and a busy staffroom. And, well, if it gives her the opportunity to try for one of Hecate’s rare smiles to fortify her for the day ahead, who could blame her, really?

She knocks without hesitation, calling, “Hecate,” through the door as she does so. “Are you in there?”

The pause before Hecate’s answer is longer than Ada is expecting - she has time to begin to wonder whether she has woken Hecate after all, time to picture Hecate curled beneath the sheets, eyes closed, face soft with sleep - when Hecate’s voice reaches her. “Just a moment, Ada.”

Hecate opens the door by hand, her familiar black dressing gown wrapped tightly about herself. Ada sees the shape of her outlined beneath it and she wonders… Just for the briefest of moments, she wonders what she might find underneath that robe, were the two of them here, in Hecate’s bedroom, under much different circumstances. Under that thick layer of fabric, is Hecate wearing a nightdress, or a set of pyjamas, matching of course, but presumably as practical as Hecate is herself.

And yet... And yet, Ada is aware that Hecate’s clothing is not purely practical. That her typical choice of dress, severe but well-tailored; her high, pointed collars and beautiful, intricate belts; the dark polish on her nails and flash of colour on her lips, and the careful touch of flourish on some of her spellwork... It speaks of a flair for the dramatic that, Ada considers now, might carry through to her choice of nightwear.

Something black, of course. Black, but perhaps… something silk, figure-hugging…

She becomes aware of Hecate’s sharp eyes upon her, expectant, and she draws her mind away from this delightful track with no small regret. For the time being, she needs to keep her focus on the school, where it belongs. She sets herself to enlisting Hecate’s assistance in her plans for the day.

Day Two

Ada does not call on Hecate this morning. She finds herself tempted to, as she drinks her customary cup of tea in bed, Pendle curled warm around her toes and a report she intended to finish reading the night before open in her lap. She could easily manufacture some perfectly reasonable excuse to show up at Hecate’s door, and have a lovely chat with her before both their days inevitably have to begin. She can’t help feeling, though she has no real reason to, that Hecate might even welcome the intrusion.

But no, not today. She has too much to do, too many tasks demanding her attention, to think about distracting both herself and Hecate for no real reason at all. She adjusts her glasses and finishes the last few pages before getting out of bed. Dislodged, Pendle makes an indignant sound, but then settles back into the warm space Ada has vacated.

“It’s all right for you,” Ada tells her familiar, with a fond smile. “Some of us have a school to run.”

Pendle purrs, utterly unrepentant.

Ada dresses swiftly and without much thought. She takes the nearest skirt from her wardrobe, picks a blouse and a jumper that match it well enough, her mind occupied with the shape of the day ahead - a long, busy list of tasks and meetings vying for her attention, assuming nothing more immediately pressing throws itself in her path, as is so often the case. She doesn’t dislike any of it, not really, but it does get a little wearing this late in a term. She’ll be grateful when the holidays begin and she’ll have time to really sink her teeth into her neglected paperwork.

And perhaps, she reminds herself, a little time for fun, as well.

There’s a thought playing in the back of her mind and it takes advantage of this fleeting opportunity to wriggle its way to the forefront, determined to be heard. Just for a moment, Ada thinks about taking the day off. Putting down all her responsibilities, and letting Ada of tomorrow deal with them. Leaving someone else in charge, just for today.

Without a care in the world, she would go back to Hecate’s door, and knock, a little joyful pattern of sound that would blend with Hecate’s footsteps on the other side. Hecate might open the door dressed again in her robe, and she would grace Ada with a smile, rare and genuine. Ada would be unable to resist smiling back, her face, her body, tilting up towards Hecate, no more able to prevent it than the array of flowers on her windowsill can stop seeking the sun.

And this time, perhaps, she would step through the doorway, and find what lay on the other side for the both of them. Fingertips under the edges of Hecate’s robe, peeling it back, a flash of pale skin and dark silk underneath, Ada’s own lips, pressed to the hollow of Hecate’s collarbone.

Pendle lets out a plaintive _meow_ , and Ada realises that if she doesn’t hurry, she’ll be late to breakfast and then she’ll spend the whole day feeling like she’s fighting to catch up with herself. She slips on her shoes, the ones with the little cat faces on the toes, picks up a sheaf of papers and her maglet, and continues with her day..

Day Three

Ada finds herself dressing with a little more care than she usually might on a weekday morning. She chooses her underwear deliberately, a matching set that she treated herself to not long ago, and hasn’t worn often. She loves the texture of it under her fingers as she settles it into place, enjoys the way her skin peeks through the pale pink lace, the little silk bow that nestles between her breasts, matching the two that sit on her hips.

She has given herself time this morning, those extra moments needed to consider Hecate’s fingers in place of her own, sweeping along the lace edges of her bra, brushing whisper-soft against her skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. She thinks about it deliberately, lets her mind take her to the place where Hecate bends her head and puts her mouth to Ada’s breasts, finding a pebble-hard nipple through her bra, damp fabric and the heat of Hecate’s breath. She wonders what it would feel like for Hecate, the gentle scratch of lace under her tongue, the way it grazes against Ada’s own thumb now.

She wants to take the thought further - Hecate’s fingers sliding down her bare stomach, finding the scalloped edge of her knickers. Hecate’s body pressed close. What Hecate might be wearing, whether it’s the silk Ada had imagined for her the previous day, how it might cling to her body, all her angles and curves outlined for Ada to admire. How Hecate’s silk might catch on Ada’s lace, riding up between their bodies.

Ada pulls her thoughts back with no small effort. She allowed herself a little moment of time, but she still has to dress for work. These thoughts, she realises, will follow her through the day, flickering to life in her mind, in her body, at every available opportunity.

Perhaps tonight she’ll let the fantasy run to its conclusion. Perhaps she won’t be able to stop it by then, and she’ll lie on her bed and slide her own hand beneath pink lace, touch herself to thoughts of Hecate’s hands, Hecate’s mouth, Hecate’s body if Ada were to strip her bare of robe and nightdress and underwear.

Perhaps tonight.

Ada runs her hand over her own breast once more, straightens the little bow, and remembers with a small shiver, which she can’t pin entirely on nerves or entirely on arousal, that she has a long meeting with Hecate this afternoon. The blouse she pulls from her wardrobe is smart and serviceable, but cut just low enough that she knows the very edge of her bra might be visible, if, perhaps, she chooses to sit at the right angle during that meeting.

If she chooses. Perhaps.

Day Four

Ada dresses lazily today, her body wanting her to stay cosy in her bed, her mind wanting to luxuriate in thoughts of Hecate.

She thinks, as she chooses lace again, fastening her bra, sliding her knickers up over her hips, about how she felt yesterday, shut in her office with Hecate, half her mind occupied with the meeting, and the other half noticing the way Hecate’s eyes lingered on her neckline. The way Hecate drew a sharp breath when Ada said her name, with an unreadable look in her eyes. The way she didn’t seem able to stop herself glancing down at Ada’s mouth even as Ada spoke to her.

What if this is something real between them? Considering it now, Ada finds herself unsure how she had ever really doubted it. She thinks of their friendship, their closeness. She thinks of how Hecate is the only witch she really wants to see, at the end of a long day’s work. Of how Hecate is the one she always wants to share good news with. Of how only Hecate’s seems to know what Ada needs when she’s upset - how her very presence is a balm.

It feels… straightforward. It feels like it might be… easy. That this friendship might be turning into something else, something they both want.

Ada chooses a dress of a soft, heavy fabric that’s comforting as it falls around her. She can picture Hecate here, in the room with her, the both of them dressing for the day. She can imagine this being their routine, together. Silk and lace, side by side, in this as they already are in so many things.

She could choose this. Lace catching on silk. It could be easy.

Day Five

Ada has been aware for a while that she should get up and go to bed, but she’s comfortable in her chair by the fire in the staff room. She has to be up early in the morning, but there’s something so relaxing about being here, in the very heart of her own beloved school, and in the quiet company of the other teachers - not only her staff, but her friends.

And if she is also enjoying watching Hecate from under her lowered eyelids, what of it? Hecate, seated in an armchair across from Ada, is working her way through a pile of marking, her fingers making small, controlled movements above each page, red inked corrections blooming in their path. She hasn’t so much as a hair out of place, even this late in the day - her bun sleek and immaculate, and her long, black dress tucked neatly about her legs. Everything about her is beautiful, and Ada can’t yet bring herself to look away.

She is also sure she has caught Hecate stealing glances back at her once or twice. _She could choose this_ , Ada reminds herself, letting the thought bed in, giving it time to become a part of her. _It could be easy_. Herself and Hecate. Lace and silk.

Eventually, Pendle appears, as is her wont when Ada is late to retire, jumping onto Ada’s lap and reminding her that it really is past time she headed to her bedroom. Resigned, she picks the cat up and gets to her feet, stretching tired muscles as she does so. Hecate is watching her again, and this time Ada catches an endearing little smile that Hecate hasn’t managed to suppress.

She bids Hecate and Dimity goodnight, and makes her way to her room. She’ll usually walk rather than transfer at this time of night, enjoying the journey through her sleeping castle, the sense of peace it brings her. She makes it almost as far as her own door before she realises she hasn’t remembered to return the potions textbook she borrowed from Hecate the day before. She could definitely return it in the morning. She could also, with a few words and a very little expended energy, send the book back to Hecate’s classroom, for her to find the following morning.

Ada does neither of these things. Instead, she finds her feet carrying her back down the corridor, around the corner, and onwards, towards Hecate’s bedroom. She’ll go in, leave the book, and be gone before Hecate has so much as thought to move from the staffroom. She tries half-heartedly to tell herself that it’s in case Hecate has need of the book tonight. That she isn’t hoping to bump into her here, outside the door, for a final look, a final _goodnight, Ada_ to send Ada off to her own bed with Hecate’s voice in her ears.

In reality there is, however, no sign of Hecate. Book in hand, Ada sighs, opens the door, and slips inside.

Hecate’s presence in the room is such a surprise that it quite takes Ada’s breath away even before she has the chance to realise that Hecate is in her underwear. And that the underwear is a beautiful, clinging, silky black slip.

Suddenly all Ada can hear is her own heartbeat in her ears, and she’s aware of a deep, unhelpful flush creeping its way up her cheeks. She takes a breath, closing the door quickly behind her and telling herself not to be so ridiculous, and apologises profusely to Hecate for the intrusion, explaining about the book. The excuse sounds even more hollow now that’s she says it aloud than it did in her head, where it had already felt rather thin.

There’s a thought that plays at the edges of Ada’s mind as they converse, and she can’t quite think it fully yet, but it’s there, on the periphery. _Hecate hasn’t moved to cover herself_. Ada is trying so hard not to look at Hecate, or at least, not to look like she’s looking at Hecate, though if she’s honest with herself, she isn’t sure she’s managing either of those things.

Ada thinks about what it might be like to put her hands, put her mouth, on Hecate right now. About how Hecate might react. Ada could choose this.

“I am truly sorry,” she finally manages to say, and she thinks there might have been a catch in her voice.

“Don’t be,” Hecate says. Her smile sends a surge of relief through Ada, but there’s something in her tone that follows that with a different surge. Ada’s heart skitters, nerves and desire swirling together in her belly as she looks up and meets Hecate’s eyes.

“Wouldn’t you like to put something on?” she finds herself asking.

Hecate raises her eyebrows. “Not particularly.”

_Oh._

Ada could choose this, but so could Hecate, and it seems that Hecate has chosen already.

Ada’s breath catches in her throat under Hecate’s unflinching gaze. She wets her lips, knowing suddenly without so much as the tiniest sliver of doubt exactly what she wants to say, but unsure of her ability to find words in this moment.

Hecate continues to watch her, the depth and intensity in her eyes has become almost a plea, and Ada knows she can’t leave her without an answer to her unspoken question for so much as another second.

“Well then,” Ada says, and as she begins to speak, it’s suddenly every bit as easy as she dreamed it might be, “in that case. Perhaps you’d rather… I take something off?”

She smiles as Hecate’s eyes blaze back at her, a small, coy half-smile twitching at her lips.

“Perhaps,” Hecate says, her eyes belying the seriousness of her tone. “Although, time is limited. After all, as you said yourself, it is a school night.”

Ada steps forward, slowly, one foot in front of the other. _This is real_ , she tells herself as she moves towards Hecate. This isn’t in her head, not her imagination running wild. She has chosen this, and so has Hecate. “Best not to waste a moment, then,” she hears herself say.

Silk, under her fingertips, and the heat of Hecate’s skin beneath. Hecate bends her head and their mouths meet, the lightest brush of contact, gentle, tentative… and then suddenly neither of those things. They kiss like they’ve been waiting all their lives for this, until Ada’s head is spinning and she can barely breathe.

She feels Hecate’s hands at her neckline, unfastening the buttons of her blouse with care but also with a desperate haste that sends a fresh wash of heat right through Ada. She feels the instant that Hecate bares enough of her for her fingers to find the edges of Ada’s bra under her clothes, and she leans in, pressing her body flush against Hecate’s, kissing her hard.

Silk catches on lace, and Ada’s heart soars.


End file.
